


Warm Water

by HyfrydCymru



Series: 30 Days Challenge [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, Bathtubs, Day 2, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Naked Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:21:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4612743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyfrydCymru/pseuds/HyfrydCymru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there is something life has taught England, it’s that a Scotsman cannot be caught unguarded by violence like he can be by sudden tenderness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm Water

“There is another bathtub in the house.”

“Aye. There is.”

“It’s a grander bathtub.”

“Aye. It is.”

“It’s adjoined to your room.”

“Aye.”

“Bugger off to it, then!” England kicked a leg out of the water, scowling, only to have it pushed promptly back under without Alasdair having to do as much as open his eyes or straighten his back from the leisurely position he rested in across from him, head hanging from the edge and arms stretched over the borders of the narrow free standing tub in the guest bathroom.

“Nae.”

            England groaned and gave up any further attempt of arguing with the wet, stubborn mule that had disturbed his evening, choosing instead to ignore his presence (a commendable feat, seeing that he could feel the brush of Scotland’s leg hair under the water, where he was forced to bend his knees slightly to avoid brushing something _else_ that was conveniently _there,_ exposed as seemed usual).

            Leaning back, he closed his eyes and forced himself to relax into the near scalding water, head lolling to the side, and feeling soothed by the steamy air of the room to the point of light headedness. The overall silence was welcome, as Scotland seemed to have been pacified for the time being, and that was more than England had dared to expect. He was carefully toeing the line of consciousness when the water was disturbed.

Something was jabbing the side of his face, Arthur registered absently, but let it slide for the sake of peace. He frowned when toes was began to press more insistently on his cheek and turned his head to the other side to avoid it, feeling slightly more irked by the second but remaining steadfast in his decision. There was no ignoring Scotland, however, when he shoved the entirety of his foot on England’s face and wiggled his toes on Arthur’s nose, coming dangerously close to jamming them up his nostrils.

Catching a hold of the offending limb with one hand and pulling it away from his face, Arthur looked ready to bite; Alasdair watched him amusedly with one half-opened eye and a feral smirk, waiting for the scunner to pounce. He sat up straighter in expectation as England took a deep breath… but froze halfway through, thrown off by the way the murderous grip on his leg eased up and bewildered by the soft press of England’s lips on his ankle in what was an interesting brand of outcome he’d not been expecting.

Sliding back to rest against the tub again, the Scot was taken aback by the gentleness England displayed when he trailed the path of a faded scar on his shin with a closed mouthed kiss. His free hand disappeared beneath the water to inch up Scotland’s other leg and then stroked the outside of his thigh dearly. (For the briefest moment, Alasdair felt the pressing need to kick the lad away, but he didn’t; couldn’t. Floored by Arthur’s strange behaviour, he could only sit back and watch as each small kiss was pressed reverently to the hairy, marred skin.) England was kneeling in the tub now, lips placed to the side of Alasdair’s raised knee, and the red head began to wonder just how long Arthur could hold his breath under water, bodyheat rising.

Unfortunately for Scotland, the same thought must have crossed Arthur’s mind who, with a sudden jerk of Alasdair’s thicker thighs, had him on his back, head and torso under the water and naked arse exposed to the open air.

Half drowning, half irate, Alasdair decided that he should have kicked the scunner when he had the chance.

(That did not stop him from pulling Arthur down on him before the lad could scurry away, and finally crashing their lips together.)

**Author's Note:**

> Second day!


End file.
